Ice, to Have or Have Not
Have you ever wondered…about “things”?
Of course you have! We humans have the most advanced and highly developed brain outside chimps and dolphins, so of course we wonder and think – about “stuff”. That’s the good news. The bad news is we only use less then 10% of this marvelous brain doing such things as - wondering and thinking while as far as science has been able to determine the other 90% in still undeveloped virgin waste-land.
An example of how one particular males’ brain works is below:
Last evening the part of Frank’s brain devoted to women was wildly thinking and wondering about Irene and how to ‘pop-the-question’ on marriage and if she would be his wife. They were having dinner in an up-scale restaurant and he was all nerves as she was miss-kool sipped her lemon-flavored ice-water and was the perfect vision of beauty in motion. Dimmed lighting, soft muffled conversational voices in the background, waiters scurrying between tables, soft romantic string music coming from a lone antique harp sitting in the corner with a gowned young lady playing it as if she had butterflies playing with her fingers. Irene had slowly raised her glass with graceful fingers, eyes flashing with anticipation, lips slowing parting, her pink tipped tongue unhurriedly moistening her lower lip to accept the cold ice filled glass, he felt a twinge of future anticipation for an lovely evening. Anticipation and adrenalin peaked as she held a small amount of cold liquid in her mouth letting it warm briefly before it slips down a scented throat, her eyes glistening as she held the glass only inches from her handsome face. Looking over the glass’ now frosty rim toward Frank her eyes narrowed with passion and want, said in that sultry female voice now so familiar to him…
“Do you have any idea why these ice cubes are clear?”
He sputtered a quiet “…no.”
She then engrossed herself in studying her newspaper sized menu. Maybe she dropped the ‘ice’ subject because she saw that blank look on his face that spelled ‘I have NO idea’.
Frank felt as though he had just dodged a bullet, but the question still nagged him. He had never thought about it before, why should he, what difference does it make to him if ice is clear?
Orders taken, and small talk continued during cocktails and salad then she had to powder her nose just before the main entrée.
This was Frank’s chance.
As soon as she left the table he dug out his new do-everything iPod and with nervous fingers quickly typed in Google.com. No response so he typed Ask.com still no response, then tried AskJeeves, then Dogpile.com before a search engine window to the world opened. His finger were beginning to sweat and was touching wrong keys in quiet anticipation Irene would be returning before the little machine could answer… but he typed on and finally there was an answer, or part of it. He had to put on his glasses to read the screen and scroll and scroll and scroll but finished a first scan only moments before she returned. He wished for a printer or at least for another fifteen minutes.
“What are you doing honey?” An honest question because she apparently saw his cupped hand in his lap just as he closed white-tipped fingers over the screen.
“Nothing.” He lied. Thinking back on it now he should have said he was checking e-mail but, maybe it was that guilty feeling because he didn’t have a clue what “clear ice” was supposed to be as apposed “non-clear or dirty or foggy or hazy or gray or cloudy” ice.
“Ice is ice is ice” his male pre-occupied brain was telling him. Relax and think about it later.
Frank’s brain was having fun with it 10% as it continues silently saying to him; “I wish Irene didn’t smell so good, it’s hard to concentrate… I love ‘cleavage’”. Never once did his brain wander off to subjects such as baseball, football playoffs, hall-of-fame inductees, republicans, democrats, war, car repair or new car models. It was centered on the lady across the table which was the love of my life, but sometimes also his tormentor.
Between her asparagus and filet mignon, Frank was able to steal quick glances at the little screen now being held between nervous knees. The answers were all there, but as he scanned again and again he could not find anything on “clear ice”. Maybe ‘clear-ice’ is a synonym or antonym or even an acronym for something. He was perspiring, nervous and now lost as how to handle that seemingly casual question – “…do you now what clear-ice is…?” Maybe now what he should try doing is just deciphering all what was between his knees to make meanings and put the words into some kind of intelligent conversation. His brain yelled “BS” but he paid it no attention.
He had scrolled to portions of text that said, “CLEAR ICE – Clear ice does not have any impurities. That didn’t say a heck-of-a-lot but that was all the little machine could apparently tell him – so far. Maybe it didn’t know either but there was lots of data there saying such things as:
“1000 BC The Chinese cut and stored ice
500 BC Egyptians and Indians made ice on cold nights by setting water out in earthenware pots
Then around 1700 In England, servants collected ice in the winter and put it into icehouses for use in the summer and in 1720 Dr. William Cullen, a Scotsman, studied the evaporation of liquids in a vacuum
1805 Oliver Evans of Pennsylvania, compressed ether machine, the machine is never built…”
Everything in the world about ice except what he really needed to know.
He was dead if he could not come up with something about ‘clear ice’. There had to be a reason Irene mentioned it earlier. Was she testing him? Was it a simple observation? Maybe she was checking my intellect, my observation to details, my worldliness, jeeze- maybe even my man-hood. Frank’s 10% brain usage right now needed expanding but all the questions, facts running around in his head were not running into any answers. Now there were only other problems and questions. He was dead meat.
Dishes were cleared and coffee ordered, “…black thank you AND another glass of lemon water with ice, please.” She asked.
As in a funeral procession his brain was silently saying in a sad tone, “Now you’re really dead. She’s getting fresh ice and I bet it’s as ‘clear’ as the other.”
The restaurant’s table and booth conversations were not especially loud but there was a constant buzz as all seemed to be intermingled and not ‘words’ per-sa just sounds. As luck would have it the gentleman sitting back-too in a chair almost touching his chair, Frank’s ears and good luck picked up what could have been an appliance salesperson talking about refrigerators compared to the old style ice-boxes. The salesperson was saying something along the lines such as, “…when my mother got her first ElectroLuz refrigerator in 1925 she was so happy to get rid of her old leaking ice-box she…” when Frank could again pick up on the words he heard “… it had a freeze compartment that would actually freeze ice in small metal trays but it always vibrate so badly the water in the tray would sometimes splash out … but the ice was always clear and had a cleaner taste, not at all like other cloudy ice.” All conversations seemed to stop, the heavens open and an Angel came down to sit on his shoulder as he then heard, “… seems all impurities would be vibrated to the bottom and left clean ice cubes…”
BINGO.
There IT was. He had his ‘clear-ice’ ace-in-the-hole and as he smiled from ear to ear conversations picked up again but he stopped listening to the neighbor and leaning on one elbows looking Irene straight into her beautiful blue eyes behind her water glass. While thinking, “…yes there is a God.”
As Frank relaxed so did his knees and the light-blue iPod slide off his lap onto the floor but no one noticed. Its small plasma screen glowed bright with data but there was no hurry now. He didn’t need what the Internet had taken all of .002 seconds to look in all documents that talked to water and ice and refrigeration and Freon and freezing and who-did-what-to-whom over the years discovering, testing, perfecting the production of ice. He had his answer.
Even having the answer to satisfy his future Significant Other just the simple question raised questions in his own mind now:
Where does ice come from?
How was ice made during the hot summer months?
If chemicals are used to make ice, what are they, are they harmful?
Are/is there any substitute for ice?
What about ‘dry-ice’, why is it hot and how does it keep ‘stuff’ cold?
The iPod screen was blinking with the answer but no one cared to look or read “…Dry Ice is frozen carbon dioxide, a normal part of our earth's atmosphere. It is the gas that we exhale during breathing and the gas that plants use in photosynthesis. It is also the same gas commonly added to water to make soda water. Dry Ice is particularly useful for freezing, and keeping things frozen because of its very cold temperature: -109.3°F or -78.5°C. Dry Ice is widely used because it is simple to freeze and easy to handle using insulated gloves. Dry Ice changes directly from a solid to a gas -sublimation- in normal atmospheric conditions without going through a wet liquid stage. Therefore it gets the name "dry ice."
No one was interested in dry-ice or clear ice, or cloudy ice or any kind of ice right now.
“Sweetheart” He said as he picked up his fresh glass of lemon ice water with ‘clear ice’.
“Yes Frank” Irene said as she chewed a small sliver of ‘clear ice’
Before he could say another word there was a chiming from the floor. His do-everything-iPod, its bright plasma screen flashing with words of wisdom said:
“Make sure you tell her you know that clear ice requires running water is the main reason it is commercially made”. Frank’s brain whispered to whom ever might be listening, “…damn thing is smarter then me…”
Frank cleared his throat, hit the iPods OFF bottom and turned ever so slowly toward his beautiful soon to be partner – he hoped.
“Irene, sweetheart - I have a very serious question to ask but before I do, have I ever told you about my grandmother’s 1925 Electrolux absorption refrigerator and her running water?”
